Sentience
by goldensnitch18
Summary: When the Room of Requirement returned to its place on the seventh floor, the Headmistress and Deputy Head were hesitant but excited. They quickly discover that something is wrong and call in Auror Potter to help them figure it out. No one knows why the Room of Requirement seems to be sentient and seeks to please, but Harry and Pansy are going to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Sentience**

oOoOo

 **Goldensnitch18**

oOoOo

Rated M

oOoOo

 **Summary:** When the Room of Requirement returned to its place on the seventh floor, the Headmistress and Deputy Head were hesitant but excited. They quickly discover that something is wrong and call in Auror Potter to help them figure it out. No one knows why the Room of Requirement seems to be sentient and seeks to please, but Harry and Pansy are going to find out.

oOoOo

 **Disclaimer:** I am not profiting from this story.

Anything you recognize belongs to the great and mighty JKR.

oOoOo

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

The foreign room was black, but a small amount of light filtered in from the window beside the bed. As the sound of cars met his ears, Harry Potter, Deputy Head of the Auror Office, Boy Who Lived, and twice defeater of Voldemort, fumbled around on the ground on his hands and knees, searching for his trousers. There was a beautiful woman asleep in the bed - her bed - not far from where he crawled. A white sheet wrapped lazily around her body as she slept, letting out soft breaths. She was nice. At least she had been over the last several hours since he had met her.

Dean and Seamus had forced him out the night before, insisting that he needed the break, and it had been too long. He appreciated their concern, but time with them seemed to nearly always end with him scrambling around on the floor of some Muggle woman's flat searching for his trousers. Not that he could really blame them for that. He was a grown man. He made his own choices. It was just hard to miss out on the opportunity to be with a woman who had no expectations of him outside of that night.

His fingers met jean, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He did not want to have to turn on the lights. He wasn't interested in giving her lame excuses about work when they both knew they weren't going to be seeing one another again. She thought he was a detective, which was near enough to the truth, but he had no intention of telling her who he really was. His name meant nothing in this world. Even after all this time, the idea of anonymity was extremely attractive to him. This woman would all but forget about him soon enough. That would never happen in the Wizarding World, which was why he kept these nights to himself.

The papers had been after him for years, ever since the break up with Ginny. They had been together seven years after war. Through her last year of Hogwarts, Auror Training, and her first several Quidditch seasons. They had been happy, or so he thought. He hadn't been ready to get married, to settle into children and a real home. He imagined one day those things would be appealing, but for now, they held little weight. At first, Ginny hadn't been interested in them either. They would tease her mother about her wedding jokes and shiver in dissatisfaction their friends would announce they were expecting. A baby seemed like a ridiculous amount of work, especially for an Auror and a Quidditch player. Half the time they weren't even in the same country.

But, slowly, Ginny started to hint that she might be ready to risk some of her freedom in exchange for deeper commitment. She began to talk about the children they might have one day, or the house they would buy after they were married. The night Ron proposed to Hermione, they had gotten into a screaming row about whether or not they were ever going to settle down. Harry hadn't been ready, but he had tried. He bought a ring. He talked to Ron and Arthur. He nearly even gave it to her, and then he hadn't. They were sitting at dinner in her favorite restaurant, and he had looked across the table, and been unable to give it to her. She had moved out of Grimmauld the next day, and that was that.

The papers followed the break up with fervor, as well as Ginny's rebound turned husband, Blaise Zabini, and her quick pregnancy with their first child, a girl that seemed to be adored by everyone who knew her. Harry even adored her, despite the awkward tension that seemed to exist between him and her parents, but his interest in children continued to run no further than helping to ensure his godson was a happy, well adjusted kid who happened to be spoiled just enough to not turn him the way of Dudley as a child. Harry was pretty sure he had been over Ginny before that night in the restaurant, but it was still odd to see her with someone else three years later. The papers played it up as unrequited love on his part, but it was truly disinterest and awareness that women still looked at him now the way Romilda Vane had looked at him back at Hogwarts. His name meant something, and he prefered to not let it have a role in his love life, so he just didn't have one.

Harry regained his footing, pulling the trousers up off the floor as he moved. He slid them over his feet and pulled at them, shaking the jeans up his legs before he snapped the button shut. He had to get to work. His days started early and ended late. The Deputy Head of the Auror Office never slept, at least not since he had accepted the job two years ago. However, he did drink coffee like water and imbue the occasional Pepper Up when caffeine alone failed him. He hadn't been to Grimmauld to sleep in three - or maybe four - nights, choosing instead to nap on the couch in his office for short intervals and live out of his closet. He would crash sooner or later. His bed would become his home for three or four days, and the cycle would begin again.

Once his jeans were in place, resting securely on his hips, jumper pulled down over his chest, Harry double checked that his wand was still safely tucked into the long pocket that ran down the side of his thigh. He spared one last look for the sleeping woman before he shuffled across the floor and out the door of her bedroom to hunt down his missing shoes.

XXX

By the time Harry had used the shower, which was supposed to be a rarely utilized convenience, changed into his Auror robes, and made it back to his office, the chair across from his desk was occupied by one of his best friends. Ron looked up from the file he had been looking at as Harry entered before tossing it back onto the clutter of the large desk in front of him.

"What are you doing here so early?" Harry asked. Ron usually rolled in several hours later than Harry, when normal people were showing up for work in their department.

"Hermione wants to go look at a house tonight," Ron told him. "Gotta get out of here early." Ron and Hermione had been living in a small one bedroom flat for four years now, and they both hated it. Hermione had no room for her books, and Ron wanted a garden. He hated being stuck inside. Harry had also recently learned that they were deciding when to start trying to have a baby, hence the house hunting. It was odd to think that one day his best friends, now married for going on two years, were going to have a baby of their own. It hadn't escaped his notice, or the reporters, that he was a very elite member of a dwindling number of their classmates who hadn't settled down.

"Think it's the one?" Harry teased with a chuckle. They had looked at nearly thirty houses now, and Hermione was apparently increasingly difficult to please with each one.

"Prolly not," Ron grumbled. "We'll be seventy and still in that damn flat if she doesn't stop with the direction of the breeze flowing through the windows in the bedroom nonsense. I'm tempted to just buy one without her and be done with it."

"That would go over well," Harry agreed, inwardly thinking that Ron would be living at Grimmauld for a month if he ever had the nerve to go through with such a plan. As he spoke, he fell into his desk and started to pick through the mail that had been deposited there since he left the night before.

"Anyway, wanted to know if you want to get lunch today?" Ron asked, but Harry was frowning down at the pile in his hands.

"Post from Neville," he told Ron, ignoring the lunch invitation.

"Neville?" Ron asked. It wasn't that they didn't see Neville. They did. When the lot from Hogwarts would get together he would be there, and that was once a month or every other month, but it was odd to get post from him. He was busy at Hogwarts. He'd been either training under Sprout or teaching Herbology for all of the ten years since the war, and McGonagall had picked him as her Deputy Head just this year.

Harry set down the rest of the letters and pulled open the seal on Neville's, scanning the words quickly. "Wants me to come out to Hogwarts. Something urgent he needs help with."

"That sounds great," Ron mused.

"Yes. Urgent and Hogwarts always makes me feel like it will be an easy day," Harry said. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what could be happening. Hogwarts made a point of not involving the Ministry in their day to day operations. There had been moments, mainly when Harry had been in attendance, that the Ministry had tried to intrude anyway. This kind of move had never ended well for them. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, and Professor McGonagall, current Headmistress of Hogwarts, seemed to have a very clear understanding of where the Ministry belonged and where it did not when it came to the students and their care.

Actually, Kingsley had proven to be a great leader in the past ten years in more ways than just his understanding of the need to let Hogwarts be Hogwarts. He had pushed Hermione into positions of power that she would have otherwise avoided, finding herself much more comfortable in support positions where her power could be wielded behind a curtain. Kingsley had rid her of this notion, displaying with clear determination evidence of his reasoning for her to take over leading the Care of Magical Creatures Department just last year. He had begun to encourage her to look higher and to reach into other departments as well. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Kingsley had already decided who he would like to see himself replaced with when the time came for such a transition of power. Harry hadn't mentioned it to Hermione yet, but he and Ron had discussed the possibility. Ron seemed open to it, if just a bit hesitant about whether or not she would want the job.

"You going out there then?" Ron asked, and Harry sighed. He really didn't have time to spend the day at Hogwarts, but he didn't have much of a choice. If Neville was writing and claiming it was urgent, there was something that needed addressed.

"Suppose I have to. I'll have to let Carlin know I'm leaving for the day." Harry looked at the rest of the mess on his desk. All things that needed his attention; cases, people, paperwork. Some of it was red tape, but a good majority of it was important. He hated pushing work off that needed done. He stood, pushing his body up with is hands on the edge of the desk. He looked around the piles, reaching for a few things, considering what he needed taken care of the most. "You have time to look at some of this for me?" he asked, glancing up at Ron.

"Yeah, of course," Ron told him.

"Just get to what you can, leave the rest back on my desk, and I'll try to make it back tonight to finish up what's left." Harry handed him a small stack of papers and files, and Ron stood, pulling the pile against his side.

"No problem. Hope everything is okay out there," Ron told him before he moved to leave the office. Harry looked around, trying to decide if he should take anything with him. In the end, he decided not to. Neville's note had been short and lacking any detail that may have led him to pack any materials or tools. Perhaps it wasn't really a big deal after all. He would have liked this to be true, but something tickled at the back of his neck and shot down his spine, making him feel a way he hadn't felt in over ten years. Something was going on at Hogwarts, and it was calling him back to deal with it.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm insane and starting another WIP because I love the plunnie, and I want to share it with you !**

 **Hansy is not a ship that I have ever read or sought out, so I hope that you enjoy this and aren't disappointed if there are traditional expectations of this ship that I am not aware of and fudge a bit. Hopefully it will be new and unique? We shall see!**

 **Glad to have you as always !**

 **xoxo**

 **Meg**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sentience**

oOoOo

 **Goldensnitch18**

oOoOo

Rated M

oOoOo

 **Summary:** When the Room of Requirement returned to its place on the seventh floor, the Headmistress and Deputy Head were hesitant but excited. They quickly discover that something is wrong and call in Auror Potter to help them figure it out. No one knows why the Room of Requirement seems to be sentient and seeks to please, but Harry and Pansy are going to find out.

oOoOo

 **Disclaimer:** I am not profiting from this story.

Anything you recognize belongs to the great and mighty JKR.

oOoOo

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

It was always eerie to return to Hogwarts. Harry had been a few times over the years for this or that. McGonagall had asked him to come meet the students nearly once a year since he had left. When he could find no reason to avoid the fiasco, it was always a very long and awkward day with a lot of staring and him bumbling about like an idiot. The students barely spoke to him, and his old Professors made him feel like a child again. Ten years and he still hated the publicity which didn't seem to be going anywhere. People still seemed fascinated with him. Some days, he wondered why he hadn't taken his gold and bought an island to hide on for the rest of his life. The answer was easy, but he hated to admit it to himself, let alone to anyone else. He had no sense of identity out of being this person, the man who saved people and tried to do the right thing. That was who Harry Potter was. Harry Potter would hate living alone on an island with no one to help and nothing to do but think about the past.

That was why he was walking down the stone halls of Hogwarts with Headmistress McGonagall and her Deputy Head Neville Longbottom. Neville had grown up to be someone Harry could have never imagined him becoming. The man beside him was confident and sure of step. He was kind and generous, but Harry also had heard that he was very strict in his lessons and quite committed to safety. He was also set to marry Hannah Abbott, who Harry had only gotten reacquainted with through Neville, during the summer holiday. Harry had been invited plus one. He had no intention of needing the extra seat. Hannah had started working under Madame Pomfrey two years ago and was set to take over for her full time at the beginning of the following school year. Neville had risen seemingly quickly to Deputy Head, but he was apparently looked up to and respected by the majority of the staff despite his young age.

It was strange to see the people who had taken him in, treated him as more than a student, leave this place. They belonged here, part of the aesthetic, but things change, and people grow older. Hogwarts was moving into the next phase of its existence with a new staff slowly forming to care for the castle and its pupils. It was unsettling. As he walked, the familiar scents of torches, stone, and wood washed through him, bringing him back years and years to when he was a boy walking these halls. What would it be like to be a boy there now? Not Harry Potter, but just an ordinary boy who wanted to learn magic and fit in like all of the other students. He would never know what that was like. The closest he got to that feeling was Muggle clubs and women's beds.

"It's been a few weeks since it started working again," Neville was telling him, distracting Harry from his reminiscence. "I was trying to get in once or twice a month," he added.

"Of course you were," Harry laughed. He wasn't surprised in the least. If Harry was here every day, the temptation to check on the Room of Requirement would have been far too great to ignore. He imagined he would have been by more than once or twice a month to see if he could call back it's faithful walls. The loss of the room in the war had been, in many ways, the loss of security. That room had been so many things, and then it was just gone. They had tried to get back in within days of the battle, but nothing and no one had been able to summon the door, no matter how hard they tried.

"It was good to us." Neville shrugged, seemingly not embarrassed by his attachment to the room. "I always hoped it would be back. I'd given up though. Ten years is a long time. I was sure it was broken or dead."

"Dead?" Harry asked, a bit startled by the other man's choice of words.

"It always felt like more than magic, you know" - Neville shook his head - "like it was alive."

"It was not a living thing, Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall chided from the other side of Harry. "It was just another part of the castle, probably put there by the Founders years ago." Neville nodded in response, but Harry noticed he didn't look convinced.

"Anyway, the door appeared a few weeks ago, and there it was, our old DA room." Neville eyes sparkled as he spoke, apparently revisiting the wonder of the room opening to him again after all this time.

"And, something happened?" Harry asked, assuming that all could not have been well for them to call him. Neville wouldn't have sent him an urgent message just to reminisce.

"Well" - Neville glanced at McGonagall, and she nodded curtly - "it's a bit hard to describe really, but it's like it's trying to tell us something."

"Tell you something?" Harry asked, not sure what a room could be trying to tell anyone.

"Or, it's broken," Neville said quickly, giving their old teacher another glance. She ignored him, walking straight ahead with tight lips. Apparently, they disagreed about what was causing the problem as well.

"And, you want me to …" Harry trailed off as they drew up to the blank wall opposite Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet. Harry nearly smiled at the old image.

"I have lessons," someone hissed, coming down the hall from the opposite direction. "I realize that Potter must be a busy man, but you expect me to leave my seventh year students in the hands of that _idiot_ and not say anything?" Harry turned as she spoke, taking in the sight of Pansy Parkinson stalking down the hall to him, hand on the hip of her professor's robes as she moved closer.

"Professor Parkinson, I assure you that Professor Flitwick is …"

"Going senile!" Pansy snapped. "He had the fourth years in the bathroom charming toilets last week. He's mad!"

"He's gone a bit eccentric …" Neville started defensively.

"A bit eccentric? He suggested I instruct my students on the lost art of rune portals. Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be? I know the man is a treasure most dear, but someone needs to sack him!"

"Hello, Pansy," Harry chimed in, unable to hold back the laughter in his voice.

"Don't start with me." She held up one hand in his direction as she began to pace before the wall. "I _don't_ need a babysitter."

Harry's head snapped quickly to McGonagall, who appeared annoyed, and Neville, who looked quite guilty. "A babysitter? For what?" he asked, but Pansy was already pulling the door open.

"For this," she told him, stepping back. Harry turned his head the few inches necessary to take in the sight of the old DA room. His jaw dropped as his feet stepped unconsciously forward to walk through the open door.

"Merlin's …" he muttered. There were no words to describe this. Each foot, each inch, of the walls was touched with glittering gold ink, or paint, or … something. Runes covered every surface of the walls from top to bottom, shimmering even as he stared.

"What do they say?" he asked when he had found his voice again. He turned to face Pansy who was gazing almost reverently at the gold marks.

"I don't know. They won't let me in long enough to translate them. That's why they've called you. Apparently, you can protect me if the room tries to eat me while I study them." Her words made him want to laugh, but given this was Hogwarts, and he in fact faced being almost eaten by several things, including a troll and a giant snake, he wasn't quite sure that the room wouldn't try as well. Harry turned to the wall beside him, reaching his fingers out tentatively.

"Can I touch them?" he asked. Pansy shrugged, her expression blank as if she couldn't care less. McGonagall nodded slowly behind her, but none of the three Professors gave him much encouragement that they knew what to expect. His fingers inched forward slowly, and then he caressed the wall as gently as he would slide his fingertips across the apex of a perfectly round thigh. This was beautiful magic. Magic like he hadn't seen in years. It made his heart pound in his chest as the runes seemed to respond to him, dancing beneath his fingers. "When do we start?" he asked, unable to tear his eyes from the movement.

"I have to get back to my class, assuming that _nitwit_ hasn't killed them all. I'm done today at three thirty. Meet me back here then," Pansy told him before she swept out of the doorway. He could hear her heels receding as they hit the stone floor.

"I should get to the greenhouses," Neville told them. "I have to get ready for my third years."

"Go on then," McGonagall told him. Neville nodded to Harry before exiting, his own footsteps much less dramatic as he left them.

"I wouldn't have sent for you if I had another choice," McGonagall told Harry as she came to stand beside him.

"I'm happy to help, but surely one of the other Professors could?" Harry asked her. It was an odd job for the Deputy Head of the Auror Office to indeed be babysitting one of the Professors of Hogwarts. Pansy was no child. She was one of the most renowned members of her field. She had slipped away, all but disappearing after the war to study Ancient Runes under a mentor, a job that Harry had overheard Blaise Zabini tell Hermione suited her because she was often alone. Harry had no idea why she had accepted the position here at Hogwarts when it had been offered to her. If Blaise was correct, it seemed a move in the wrong direction.

"She will be in here every spare moment of the day. I don't have anyone to spare at the moment. Though Professor Parkinson is perhaps slightly dramatic about it, Filius does need to retire at the end of the year. Horace has already told me this will be his last year as well, though he's said that for ten years now, so who knows if he will follow through. The interviews have been horrendous. I'm beginning to understand why Albus hired Gilderoy."

"It can't be that bad," Harry offered. "Surely people want to teach at Hogwarts."

McGonagall reached up to run her own fingers across the runes, and Harry noticed, or perhaps imagined, that they did not respond in quite the same way to her touch. "Apparently, they do not. I would like to give Neville another ten years to prepare to take my role, but who knows if that will be possible. Our time is coming to an end, Mr. Potter. The staff grows old and weary, and the castle will need younger Professors to take our places, and there are few people willing to do the job correctly."

"It's hard to imagine Neville as Headmaster," Harry told her, his mind running circles around her words. Hogwarts had been his home as a child. His professors had almost served as pseudo parents, helping him to grow into the man he was today, some making better additions than others surely, he thought, thinking again of Lockhart.

Professor McGonagall actually smiled at that, her face crinkling as she glanced over at him. "He was such a forgetful boy and magic has never been easy for him, but sometimes the things that are the hardest for us turn out to be the most worthwhile. He is good with the students. They like him, but more important, they see themselves in him. It's hard to see yourself in an old bat like me."

"You aren't an old bat, Professor," Harry said quickly, as if on reflex.

"We both know I am." She shook her head, still smiling softly as she turned to leave the room. "I'm afraid I don't have the energy left for much adventure, and the castle seems to insist on carrying on with them anyway."

"Do you have any guesses about what is going on?" Harry asked, following her out of the room. The door sealed behind them, disappearing into the wall.

"None at all. I've never seen anything like it before, but then again, I'd never seen anything like the Room of Requirement before. Albus didn't even know where it came from or who could have put it there. It's an extraordinary feat. I can't imagine the power behind such an act."

"Maybe Pansy will be able to tell you," he suggested.

"Maybe," McGonagall agreed, but she didn't seem very optimistic. "I don't expect you to stay long, Mr. Potter, but I would appreciate if you could go over the room to see if you can find anything we missed that may have changed and stay with her for just a little while and make sure that the room should not, in fact, eat her."

It took a considerable amount of effort not to laugh at her words. "It's no trouble. I can stay a few days if need be. I'm owed some time off."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," she told him. "Now, I have to get back to my office. Feel free to go down to the kitchens or the Great Hall for some lunch." Harry paused to nod as she continued forward, and then he started down the stairs and towards the kitchens. If he was going to have to spend the afternoon with Pansy, he may as well be well fed.

* * *

 **A/N: Glad to have everyone on board for another fic! Hope you liked this chapter and seeing some familiar faces!**

 **xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sentience**

oOoOo

 **Goldensnitch18**

oOoOo

Rated M

oOoOo

 **Summary:** When the Room of Requirement returned to its place on the seventh floor, the Headmistress and Deputy Head were hesitant but excited. They quickly discover that something is wrong and call in Auror Potter to help them figure it out. No one knows why the Room of Requirement seems to be sentient and seeks to please, but Harry and Pansy are going to find out.

oOoOo

 **Disclaimer:** I am not profiting from this story.

Anything you recognize belongs to the great and mighty JKR.

oOoOo

* * *

Chapter Three:

Harry was standing outside the room when Pansy arrived later that afternoon. She had changed into her jeans and a jumper and pulled half of her hair back from her face. It reminded him of the last time he had been alone with her when he had fucked everything up. The witch was holding several books and binders of parchments in her arms as she approached. She ignored him as she began to pace in front of the wall, and Harry waited, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall. When the door appeared, Pansy pulled it open and walked through. He followed, sighing deeply as he did so.

"Are you going to ignore me all afternoon?" he asked, pushing the door shut behind him. Even though he had known to expect them this time, the runes still drew his eyes to them, sparkling against the walls.

"Are you going to be here all afternoon?" she asked in response. She deposited her materials on the table supplied for her by the room.

"McGonagall and Neville want me here," he told her, walking towards the table as well. There were two chairs, one on either side.

"Then I will be ignoring you all afternoon." She began opening books, her eyes, firmly on the text inside of them.

"Look I'm-" Harry started, he reached out a hand to touch her, and she whipped her face up quickly glaring.

"Don't," she snapped, as her hand rose into the air to stop him, "even think about apologizing."

"I just want to -" Harry tried again, she deserved this much, an explanation - or a better explanation at any rate.

"Don't," she said again, nearly growling the word through tight lips.

"Okay." Harry pulled his hand through his hair, shaking his head as he took a step back. "McGonagall wants me to check things out. I'll just go over here and do that."

"Wonderful." She was already turning her attention back to her work, back to ignoring him. McGonagall and Neville couldn't have known, no one knew, but he was probably the very worst person they could have called for this job. If he had known, he would have sent someone else, Ron or Marcus. He could have left he supposed. That would have been the decent thing to do, not that he had done much decently with Pansy. He had tried to be decent, to not take advantage or do something she would regret later, and he had buggered it right up, and now, apparently, she wasn't interested in his excuses, for that was all they would be. Firewhisky could only excuse so much.

He moved toward the door, pulling at his robes to leave himself also in trousers and a long sleeve shirt. He drew his wand from his pocket, staring at the runes directly next to the door. He hardly knew where to even begin, but he lifted the wood anyway, beginning to move his arm as he cast spell after spell. Behind him, Pansy continued to spread her work across the table silently. He glanced back periodically, watching her as she actively pretended that he wasn't just across the room.

By the time she finally moved over to one of the walls, her fingers extended, he had worked his way through nearly everything he could think of to try, with no results. The runes did not seem to have been placed there by any maleficent source that he could detect. They seemed to not be any immediate danger to him or Pansy. The room appeared to be free of any curses he had the ability to check for.

He watched her take in a small short breath, her eyes closing as she touched her fingertips to the gold runes. "Hello, beautiful," she whispered, but he could hear her clearly through the silence. She seemed to have forgotten his presence or perhaps didn't care. He nearly felt as if he was invading an intimate moment, but he watched anyway, enraptured by her reaction. Once her eyes had reopened, her finger traveled slowly over the figure before her. "What do you have to tell me today?" The rune shimmered, and Harry imagined that it was delighted at her attention for a moment before he realized that this was quite ridiculous. Runes didn't feel delight. They did not, could not, know what it felt like to have the pads of her fingers on his skin, gripping him with fervor.

He closed his own eyes, shaking his head to remove the images, but they persisted, sneaking through his mind one after the other as he pushed against them. It was Blaise's birthday party. He nearly hadn't gone. It was damn strange to celebrate the birthday of the man married to his only serious girlfriend ever, but Hermione and Ron had insisted that it would be worse if he didn't go. Mrs. Weasley had made dinner and they had celebrated outside in the garden, which had surprised Harry. It seemed odd for Blaise Zabini to enjoy a party thrown by Mrs. Weasley, but he supposed she _was_ his mother in law. He probably tried to keep her happy to a certain extent despite the fact that everyone knew she had taken Harry and Ginny's break up harder than anyone. Harry was sure she had just wanted to be able to mother him for real, in an honest legal sense that wasn't her just being his best friend's mum. None of that mattered to Harry. Mrs. Weasley would always be a mother to him.

At the party, he had done his best to blend in. Dean and Seamus sat with him most of the night, drinking and laughing. Hermione and Ron had been at their table, but they got up to dance and mingle with other couples as well. Hermione had tried to convince Harry to dance with Luna, but that was _not_ going to happen. He wasn't interested in getting involved, certainly not with a friend, and Hermione's dance suggestion was never just a dance suggestion these days. She seemed intent on butting into his life and finding a way to help him be less lonely. That was just who she was.

He had ended up on his way to drunk, not in any small part due to having to watch Ginny in the arms of her husband all night, their daughter between them. It wasn't that he missed her. He didn't miss her in that way. He missed their close friendship. He missed that she had understood parts of him in a way that no one else likely ever would, but he did not miss their relationship. Despite this, it was hard to see what should have been his life play out before him, knowing that everyone here had been expecting that to be him. That little girl was supposed to be his daughter. It was a truly peculiar experience, which he managed with Firewhisky.

Toward the end of the evening when all of the children and most of the older generation had vanished, Harry made his way into the house to get away from the people for just a few minutes. He wandered up the stairs, memories of his childhood floating unconsciously forward, reminding him of a time he would have given anything to be one of the kids who called this place their home. He was outside Ron's room when he smelled it, someone having a cigarette. It was such an odd scent to inhale inside of the Burrow, so he followed it, encourage by his hazy mind. Pansy was sitting on Ron's bedroom floor, her eyes closed, her lungs breathing in her cigarette. Her nails and lips were a deep red, both standing out against the white paper with stark clarity. Beside her on the carpet, a glass of Firewhisky sat nearly empty.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked her, stepping into the room before he closed the door.

Her eyes shot open, and moved to glare at him as she removed the cigarette. "Waiting for someone to come irritate me about why I'm not out at the party, obviously," she snapped back, her eyes flashing.

"So, you want to be alone." Harry reached for her hand, pulling the cigarette from it and using his wand to vanish it, as well as the residual smoke.

"You are an asshole, Potter," she told him.

"I'm saving your life. Molly will kill you." Harry fell to the ground beside her. "Why did you come in here for that anyway?"

Pansy laughed, shaking her head. "I'm avoiding Neville's fiance," she told him. "I can't believe he's marrying her."

"Hannah? Why are you …" Harry's eyes grew large. "Did you and Neville?"

"A long time ago. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. I have a habit of making terrible decisions when I'm drunk." She laughed, lifting the glass to her lips to drain it.

"And, you have feelings for him?" Harry asked, not sure why else she would be avoiding Hannah, and feeling utterly awkward.

Pansy let out a laugh, cold laugh, and Harry was sure that he had been wrong even before she spoke. "Are you fucking kidding me? Longbottom?" She laughed again. "No. Fuck no, but the precious man _told_ his future wife that we used to fuck occasionally, and now she hates me. It's unbearable being around her, which is a joy since he and I work together."

"Why would he tell her that?" Harry asked, startled by Neville's honesty.

"Because he's Longbottom. He isn't like the rest of us mortals. He should have been a fucking Hufflepuff like his damn fiance." Pansy set the empty glass back down on the ground and then moved to lay down on the carpet. "Are all your friends losers?" she asked as she stared up at the ceiling full of Chudley Cannons posters

"You never hung a poster?" Harry asked defensively. Even if this room had not belong to his best friend, he would have defended the posters. The Burrow was a sacred place to him, a place he had felt safe and at home at a time when his home was a terrible place. He slid down beside her as he spoke. He lay on his back, hands on his stomach.

Pansy shook her head, turning to face him. "Still oblivious as ever, Potter. My mother would have disowned me if I ruined my room by hanging a poster."

"Isn't your room supposed to be yours to do with as you please?" Harry asked. He mirrored her movement, turning his face to hers.

"You know nothing." She sighed, and Harry was sure this was some cultural divide he had escaped learning about by being too wrapped up in Quidditch and Voldemort.

"Sounds about right," he told her. His eyes moved down from hers, lingering on her cherry lips. The Firewhisky was encouraging his thoughts of closing the space between them. His hand would find her hip as his mouth tasted those lips. The last few logical parts of his brain that remained operating were reminding him that those particular lips belonged to someone very complicated, someone who went against every boundary he had set in place to avoid being taken advantage of.

"I suppose you must know some things," Pansy told him. Her teeth pulled in her bottom lip, and he was sure she had realized he had been watching them. He looked back up at her eyes. Pansy's hand came to rest on his chest. "They made you Deputy Head after all Auror Potter."

Harry reached for her hand with every intention of pushing it away, but instead his fingers intertwined with hers of their own accord. "Hardly. They just think I make them look good." This was shit. He'd worked his ass off for that promotion.

"Well, you certainly do make the uniform look good." Pansy shifted her body toward him, closing the distance between their bodies.

That logical part of Harry which hadn't been entirely damped down by the alcohol knew this was dangerous, he knew he shouldn't do this, but she smelled fucking amazing, and her eyes were already undressing him. He reached out, his fingers touching her black hair, disappearing beneath the surface. He wasn't sure if he pulled her head in or she moved, but they were kissing in the next moment. She tasted better than he could have imagined.

Her body was quickly against his, and then moving on top of him as their kiss moved quickly from gentle to intense. Her hips began to rock against him, and he slid his free hand up her body, pushing her shirt up to feel her skin. She let out a soft noise of satisfaction when he brushed her nipple through her bra and pulled back. She was smiling broadly as she sat atop him. He pushed the shirt over her head, and she reached back to pull off her bra. Before she had really even removed it, Harry was pulling her back down as he turned so that she would be underneath him on the rug.

Pansy removed his shirt then before moving to his belt as his mouth claimed her nipple, licking and sucking at her flesh. They moved quickly, with dedicated intention, both of them clearly desperate to get to the part where he would be inside of her, satisfying both of their very sudden aches for release. As she slid down the zip of his trousers, he bit down on her breast. "Potter." He heard the desire in her voice as his name slipped past her lips.

"Harry?" It took him a minute to realize the call came from outside the room and down the stairs by the sound of it. He stopped, frozen in place.

"Ignore it," Pansy insisted. Harry moved up to kiss her as she pushed on his trousers, but he sighed as he heard Hermione again.

"Harry?" She was moving closer. He was sure she would check Ron's old room for him

"Fuck." He pushed up from the floor, readjusting his pants quickly with his shirt crumpled in his hand. He pulled the shirt over his head, smoothing it down the best he could, avoiding Pansy's irritated eyes. Harry moved over to the door and pulled it open. He moved down the stairs to meet Hermione.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just taking a break for a minute," Harry told her.

"Ron and I are going to head home. We just wanted to let you know."

"Okay." He leaned down to hug her, wrapping her in his arms. "See you later."

"See you." Hermione glanced back up the stairs, and Harry hoped Pansy had the sense to stay in the bedroom. She turned to leave, and he watched her until she disappeared.

When he returned to Ron's old room, Pansy was laying on her side on the rug holding her head up with her hand. She was clearly annoyed with him.

"I'm sorry," Harry told her, shutting the door again.

"You might give a girl a complex rushing off like that for another girl."

"She would have come in here looking for me." Harry said. He stayed by the door, taking in the sight of her, half naked and waiting for him to rejoin her on the floor. He desperately wanted to, but being pulled away by Hermione had been extremely sobering. The experience had allowed his mind time to remember exactly what was at risk here if he allowed himself to sleep with Pansy on the floor of his best friend's childhood bedroom.

"We could have given her quite the show," Pansy told him, her smirk spreading wide across her face.

Harry chuckled, trying not to imagine Hermione ever seeing him in any sort of situation like that. It was a bit horrifying. "Pansy," he said, and he watched her demeanor change.

"What?" she asked, but he was sure she already knew.

"I need to go," he said. "I shouldn't have done this in the first place."

"Are you serious?" Pansy sat up, reaching for her bra.

"It's … I make a point not to get mixed up with witches." He ran a hand uneasily through his hair, and she glared, reminding him instantaneously why he had disliked, and possibly feared, her so much in their younger years.

"What?" she snapped. She had her hands behind her back clasping her bra straps together. "I never asked you to come up here."

"It's just too much to …"

"Get the fuck out," Pansy told him, cutting him off.

"I just …"

"Out, Potter. Get the fuck out," she repeated, and he shook his head, knowing he had fucked this up beyond repair, at least for the moment. He followed her request, leaving her behind in Ron's old room, pulling her shirt over her head and looking utterly pissed.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed this peek into the past!**

 **xoxo**

 **Meg**


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